


The Hero

by BleedRed



Category: Football RPF, Liverpool fc - Fandom
Genre: Chelsea FC, Daniel Sturridge/Jordan Henderson friendship, Football is crazy, Jürgen is a legend, Liverpool F.C., Trent is confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:47:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8954206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedRed/pseuds/BleedRed
Summary: It's the last day of the season and the title showdown is on. With the score deadlocked at 1-1 in the dying minutes, Liverpool need a hero...





	

**Author's Note:**

> No real reason for writing this other than that I am a huge Liverpool fan and desperately want Daniel Sturridge to have a change of luck! The real schedule doesn’t end with Liverpool at home to Chelsea but the concept of the story is best communicated with this showdown. I’ve tried to capture an idea of what the players experience with fans and how exhilarating but gruelling the experience may be. I love a hero and I hope you can appreciate what my characterisation of Sturridge brings to this story: he wants desperately to be loved so that he can love the game.

‘STURRIIIIDGE’ the commentator roared as the striker wrapped his boot around the ball and struck a sweet drive at goal from the far right corner of the box. Time froze. Sturridge blinked. A split second later, the ball swerved back beneath the bar and whistled an inch above the towering Courtois’ outstretched fingertips, thumping into the red netting of the Chelsea goal which bulged rhythmically to the sudden roar of the home crowd. They’d done it. 2 minutes from time, Liverpool and Chelsea had been locked at 1-1 and the former were poised to lose out to the eventual champions by 2 mere points once again. It had looked hopeless, Liverpool had been here before, pummelling away in vain at the Chelsea defence as the seconds dragged by only for the final whistle to come, breaking Liverpool hearts just when it seemed something must surely give. Not even the legend Steven Gerrard could make the miracle happen.

So, with the clock on 93 minutes and faced with the prospect of history repeating itself, Daniel Sturridge (one of the few survivors from that team of 2013/14), took matters into his own hands. With 9 Chelsea players crowding out the box, Sturridge knew he’d have to lift the shot. The angle was impossible. He shouldn’t have even considered it. He shouldn’t have called for the layoff from Henderson on his left. He shouldn’t have stepped up and caught the rolling ball perfectly with his left instep, leaving behind nothing but a sweet thump and a scattering of loose grass. He shouldn’t have hit the perfect shot and beaten the best keeper in the League from a tight angle on 25 yards and secured Liverpool’s first title in 27 years. He shouldn’t have scored. But he did.

As the Kop exploded, the Chelsea players sank to their knees, broken, as Sturridge tore off his shirt and sprinted towards the near corner flag. He knew Chelsea were his old club, but how could he care given the stakes? His red shirt scrunched in his left hand whilst he beat his pumped chest over and over with his tightly balled right fist. Leading a trail of burning Reds in his wake, Sturridge reached the fans at the corner flag and surrendered to them. Finally, finally it’s over he thought as his ears were deafened by roaring fans, his naked torso was scratched and torn this way and that and his head was bombarded with stray hands and lips. It should have been horrifying, but it wasn’t. It was thrilling and frightening and inspiring and even arousing. He knew that after what he’d just done, his body was allowed a few fucked up reactions.

Barely 2 seconds had passed when the bodies of Henderson, Coutinho and Origi came thundering in to join him, shunting him forward further into the giant, screaming mass of fans and tearing him out again, grabbing and grasping at his body as they cried out inaudible praises of his name. Sturridge was breathless, he was done. With much difficulty, he turned his body to face his onrushing teammates and spread his arms wide, allowing himself to surf on the wall of arms behind him. Trent Alexander-Arnold had fought his way to the front and pressed himself into Sturridge’s body, craning upward to place a firm kiss on his full lips. This was bizarre but anything went as far as the hero was concerned, and he just beamed and embraced the younger man as he did his other teammates. Jürgen Klopp announced his presence by launching himself into the pack and reaching over to grab at Daniel’s head, but only managed the slightest touch before he was lost in the mass of moving Red, his glasses flying off at a random angle.

After what seemed an entire extra 90 minutes, the Liverpool cluster tore away from the bursting Kop and made their way back to their half. Karius leading the way, leaping and punching the air as he roared back to the Liverpool goal line, followed by the ecstatic Matip and Lovren at centre back. Sturridge clapped Alexander-Arnold on the back with a gleaming grin and turned to embrace his friend and captain, Henderson, who had the honour of assisting the title-winning goal. The stadium was rocking. Flags and banners waved frantically, torn up matchday pamphlets were hurled up like confetti, streaming through the warm, pulsing air. Klopp powered back down the touchline, high-fiving fans as he ran by, his face an absolute picture of passion. Sturridge, meanwhile, turned to raise two clenched fists to the Kop before raising his hands to praise God.

He was done. Since his return from injury he’d been prolific for the Reds, firing them to into contention with 16 goals, but this one was everything. He couldn’t run anymore. When Mark Clattenburg raised the yellow card, Daniel just laughed breathlessly, having forgotten he was still shirtless, the scratches of the crowd’s fingers still burning hot and now becoming visible on his skin. He pulled the shirt back over his head, enjoying the brief moment of privacy beneath the red fabric as he screamed out a relieved battle cry to himself. He squatted and was overcome was overcome with emotion, scrunching the shirt into his face to catch his tears as he sobbed. At that moment he felt a firm hand on the space where his neck met his left shoulder and a warm presence crouch down beside him.

“It’s not over yet, Dan” came the thick Geordie accent of Henderson, “yes we’ve done it, but it’s still not over.”

Shaking himself into some sort of self-control, Sturridge nodded and pulled the shirt over his head, before taking the outstretched hand of his friend and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He stuffed his arms back into the Liverpool jersey and noticed for the first time how different it felt. Liverpool was his now and he was Liverpool’s: the club, the city and the people. He briskly wiped away the remaining tears from his streaming face and sniffed sharply, puffing out his cheeks and wheeling around to jog back into position at the halfway line.

A shell-shocked Diego Costa resumed play, nudging the ball back to Willian who set off on a desperate run forward, screaming at his teammates to join him. Wijnaldum was there to meet him, flying in and dispossessing the Brazilian, before passing the ball calmly back to Henderson. Anfield roared and was filled with song. The Liverpool midfield passed the ball around and Sturridge tried to make himself available, but was largely unable due to his fatigue and state of shock. As Lallana found him with a forward pass, the final whistle sounded and Anfield exploded in elation. It was over. Sturridge grabbed up the ball and blasted it skyward, roaring his thanks to the highest. With 91 points, Liverpool had ended the season a point ahead of Chelsea. Daniel fell to his knees surrounded by his celebrating teammates and burst into tears of joy. As he was joined in a heap of elated Reds, he knew: he would never forget that night on Merseyside and Liverpool would never forget their new hero.


End file.
